This chapter gets a bit politics heavy, and I think the next one will, too? But it's also moving along. I'm pretty excited guys. Um. Thoughts thoughts. Oh! I came upon the realization today that Maul was basically highly specialized in Killing people and the art of Sneaking Around to Kill People, and as there is a LOT of canon that suggests Maul is a devastating beast that outstrips most of his peers... Yeah. . - this one from the new canon reference book All you Need to Know pretty much sticks him in the top three red lightsaber wielders, above both Dooku and Ventress. Fun shit. Pity that's just about all he was trained in LOLOLOL.

The characterization from the Naboo Handmaids and...well, Padmé, too comes from Queen's Peril and Queen's Shadow.

Warnings: talks of slavery and corruption, references to past abuse.

Maul had never been more certain of the fact that he should have said nothing than when the Kel Dor from earlier sauntered up to his cell. Maul paused in the middle of a kick that was higher than his own head, frowning towards him.

"Oh, please, Darth Maul," he said, and somehow the amusement that the Kel Dor felt was audible even through the voice modulator. Maul bristled, even as that soft voice continued, "there is no need to stop on my account. I had actually been curious as to your form."

Maul hesitated, before slowly bringing his foot down.

"Your control is remarkable for someone your apparent age…" the other said thoughtfully.

Maul said nothing, nor did he continue.

"I have trained Masters that did not have your discipline in Zavat," the Kel Dor mused. "And frankly, the amount of forms you hold that same level of mastery in is…quite impressive. Teräs Käsi, Echani, K'tara, at the least that I've recognized, and I suspect you have many more and have simply not cycled through them… Echani is particularly difficult to master given how many levels it has and how it is taught." The Kel Dor frowned, before quietly continuing, "I have also heard from Master Jinn how devastating you were with a saberstaff. A very unusual weapon, and one with a very high skill-threshold necessary in order to utilize it properly without damaging the wielder. Were you a bounty hunter before you were found by your Master? I cannot think of another opportunity you would have had to have been trained in so many forms of combat. I must admit I'm very curious about your background."

Maul said nothing, though now he was a bit more curious about this Kel Dor. Idly, Maul thought about the fact that he had been given his name before, but initially he had dismissed it. Maul was familiar with a Kel Dor in the Jedi, had admired him as a duelist and a… But why would he bring him soup? Why would he offer any sort of comfort? Surely if he was one of the best fighters among the Jedi…

Before Maul could stop himself, he found himself asking, "Who are you?"

The Kel Dor seemed a bit surprised, before laughing, "My apologies, I suppose introducing myself when I did initially was a mistake. My name is Plo Koon. Master Koon is acceptable, as is simply Koon. Would you prefer I refer to you as Darth Maul, or would Maul be sufficient?"

Maul was suddenly nearly bursting with questions, and it was a force of will to stop from voicing them. Maul hesitated though, at giving him the opportunity to use his name, and then he settled on a smirk that bared his teeth. "You may call me Lord."

Koon (for Maul only had one Master) laughed aloud, the sound distorted by the mask, but he nodded, "Very well, Lord. Were you a bounty hunter?"

Maul hesitated, frowning slightly. He knew that to answer too many questions would be dangerous, and he knew also that to betray his Master in devolving any secrets would be punished severely when Maul escaped and returned to him. His Master would know that Maul had divulged information, he was never able to hide from him. But Maul also was uncertain if he should continue to allow such misinformation and insult to continue.

Why were they so fixated on his age? Were they upset that his Master had gotten to him before they had? Would they have preferred to have taken him as a youngling and were simply upset that they had missed the opportunity?

Were children taken by Sith unusual?

"I have been a bounty hunter before," Maul finally settled on. It was true after all, he had taken on many roles in the service of his Master, a bounty hunter had been one of them, but it was unlikely that these Jedi would be able to find evidence of him. It was also simple truth that Maul knew that lying to the Jedi would not get him very far in the long run.

Maul was quite certain that his mental shields were still up and he knew that he was not weak enough to fall for a Jedi's tricks, he nonetheless was also certain that if they thought him lying they may seek to force the truth out of him, and ultimately, and most sickeningly, he was imprisoned and kept from the Force.

In the end it was ultimately safer to be careful with what truths he divulged and therefore control what it was the Jedi thought.

Plo nodded, looking at him with an emotion Maul could not make out. Maul had not been aware of how much he relied on the Force to guide his impression of people. He was not sure how much he appreciated the realization.

"A bounty hunter turned Sith Lord," he said thoughtfully. "Truly we live in strange times. Though perhaps a connection with a group of bounty hunters would be something that would make sense for a group attempting to keep in the shadows."

Maul said nothing.

"I apologize, Lord," Koon said finally, shaking his head, and Maul snapped to attention. "I have been running down a trail you are unable to answer. Not without putting you at risk of betraying your honor. Is there a topic of conversation you would deem safer? Perhaps…" Koon hummed, "Well," he laughed. "I suppose I ought to allow you to pick. It is, after all, what you would find safe. I would not wish to guide you, Lord, in choosing your own mind."

Maul found himself speechless. He did not understand Jedi.

Koon seemed to smile at him and said nothing, waiting, apparently, for Maul to make up his own mind.

Maul hesitated. "I have grown tired of the simple use of my title. You may progress to Lord Maul," he said finally, leading to a what he felt was a smile, though he wasn't sure of the meaning behind it. "I have heard of you," Maul settled on quietly, unable to keep from the mention.

"Have you, Lord Maul," Koon said without malice, and there was something like amusement and a smile in his tone. "I am uncertain whether I should be flattered or concerned at the idea of a Sith knowing who I am."

"Flattered," Maul returned easily. "You were thought highly enough of to be a threat."

"And were you the one who would deal with me, should you have come across me, Lord Maul?" Koon asked, his head tilting to the side.

Maul gave a soft hum, his own head tilting in a mimic – as well as a threat. "I had wondered which would prove the victor."

"While I would state that a spar is tempting, I am afraid I simply cannot trust you enough to let you out."

Maul found himself surprised. "It is tempting?"

"Of course," Koon returned, "you are the first Sith Lord that we have seen in over a thousand years. The idea of seeing who is truly more skilled between the two of us has crossed my mind. Over a thousand years of secrecy, of hiding in the shadows, combated against traditional and open methodology. I am very interested, particularly after having heard you stood toe-to-toe with Master Jinn and Knight Kenobi. That is no small feat."

Maul sneered.

"You do not think much of their skill," Koon spread a taloned hand, "and yet you are here. Though perhaps that does not say much against your own skill." Koon tilted his head thoughtfully, his gaze unreadable. "You did manage to live, to lead them to a place of your choosing, and it was two against one."

Maul said nothing, he just seethed internally.

"Regardless," Koon said, "it is tempting, Lord Maul, but it will not be something that shall be found out anytime soon."

Maul fought very hard not to glare. It was his own damn fault. In deciding to show his competence he had lost the element of surprise. But the issue remained that practicing a form badly was not something he had been trained to do. They were habits, long engrained through years and years of constant discipline and training.

Maul's forms had been beaten into him. He would not compromise that, not even for the chance to spar with Koon.

Maul knew that eventually he would have to kill him and made a mental note to make his death quick and painless.

Koon deserved that much at least.

"I have noticed you have not read any of the books we have left you?"

"Jedi propaganda?" Maul returned, eyeing the flimsi with distaste.

Koon laughed aloud, "Perhaps you would prefer Sith propaganda? Unfortunately, we are quite out of that, Lord Maul."

"Darth Maul is acceptable."

"Very kind, Darth Maul," Koon gave him one of those not-smiles again. "Though I believe if you would look you would find that there are many stories that are simply…stories. There are no hints of Jedi histories, no Sith histories… They are merely tales, works of fiction."

Maul took this in for a moment, looking to the flimsi, before back at Koon. "Why?"

Koon tilted his head back slightly, "Why?" he repeated, almost feeling out the question.

Maul did not understand.

Koon stared at him for a long moment, before seeming to come to the conclusion that Maul would not elaborate. Maul did not know how. "Have you ever dreamed?"

Maul narrowed his eyes slightly, uncertain of the question. He had dreamed, of course. He had dreamed of devastation, of the Jedi Order dead at his hand.

He still dreamed of that sometimes.

But Maul had little doubt that this was not what Koon was referring to.

"Have you ever…felt the urge to create?" Koon asked, his question broadening in a way that Maul had not expected. What did this have to do with dreaming? With writing? "Have you…have you ever painted? Or written anything that was not a report?"

Maul tilted his head.

"…You were a bounty hunter," Koon tried, his brow pinching low over his protective lenses. "Have you ever painted your armor? Created your mark upon it or any surface? Thought of an image of something you wanted so badly you had to paint it before you could bring it truly into existence?"

Maul hesitated, thinking of a black room, four walls and nothing else, of the bright red of his own blood breaking the darkness, a reflection of the window that he had longed for. Of the Freedom he had wanted, of a boy he saw in the window, that ran in the lava flows of Mustafar in a way that he could not. Of a boy that did not exist.

Of a reflection in glass.

And then Maul thought of his arm being broken, of being thrown onto its surface in punishment for giving into that weakness. Maul thought of the smoke that choked and smothered, the lava that burned and stung, thought of an arm that had to be broken and reset when he returned. Maul thought of all of these things, and it was with this in mind that he looked to Koon and quietly, "Dreaming is a weakness. Painting an image of what you wish to happen only distracts you from what is real. And then you stand upon the surface, you stand where you had wished to be – and you find it pales. Why would you waste your time dreaming?"

Koon stared at him for a very long moment with an emotion that he could not read. For a moment Maul worried that he had said too much. But it had been a simple question…there had been nothing that betrayed his Master, or him. Maul did not understand that look.

"Might I make a request?" Koon finally asked softly, and Maul tilted his head. "There is a flimsi in that pile titled The End of Dying. Would you read it? There is…a depiction of a martial art within it, that I have always considered to be a…well, frankly a bastardization of Teräs Käsi, but I was never certain. Perhaps you will think of another martial art it could be."

Maul frowned, looking to the pile of flimsi, and then back to Koon.

"You are not required, of course," Koon said with a smile. "Master Koth shall be here soon with your breakfast. It was…a pleasure to talk to you, Darth Maul. You may refer to me as Master Plo. If you would like to read it then please do, I am curious as to your opinion of the piece."

With that, Plo offered a bow, and walked away, radiating thoughtfulness.

Maul did not read the flimsi, but when Koth brought his breakfast, and Maul worked his way through his favorites, he searched it out. Maul stared at the title, took in the cover with a frown, and finally tossed it into the corner.

It would be weeks before he thought about it again.

And he would find that he still did not understand.

Plo Koon wandered through the halls of the Jedi Temple in a way he had not in a long time.

As a member of the Council, Plo often found himself going to something instead of simply allowing himself to wander. As Plo walked, he found himself looking up, taking in the tapestries, the statues, all of the art that surrounded him. The Temple was beautiful. It displayed its history in every artifact, upon almost every surface… It depicted their dreams.

Plo thought of a deadly Zabrak covered in tattoos, who did not see the purpose in art, in dreams. Plo had thought earlier that the markings were perhaps Darth Maul's own attempts to look sinister – now he rather thought they were marks placed upon him by his Master. It would explain why the one who was technically a walking work of art saw no need of it himself.

It also cast the marks in a much more…negative light. Plo frowned idly, thinking of Sith and the likelihood of branding…

Plo thought of a small boy who might be the Chosen One and had once been a Slave, a boy who had looked Darth Maul in the eye and proclaimed him kin, proclaimed him Slave. A boy who had yet to decide to follow their path but knew without doubt that he had a choice.

Plo was hopeful that young Anakin Skywalker would decide to join the Jedi. Anyone who had stirred them up as much as he had in such a short time was very good in Plo's book. The Council needed stirring. So often they had fallen into complacency. It was not good, and with outside perspectives it was interesting to see how much was and was not known about the Jedi in the outer rim territories. The lack of knowledge had been stark.

It had also been a bit of a wakeup call.

The Jedi had always tried to be seen among all of the territories, sending their Agri Corps wherever they were needed, acting as peacekeepers when called upon. But perhaps…perhaps…they needed to be more visible. They needed to be seen in a way that the general public understood. There was a possibility that much was being lost in translation and that was frankly unacceptable. Perhaps talking with young Skywalker would give them an understanding of where to start.

As though summoned, Plo noticed Skywalker and Knight Kenobi on the far side of the Temple, also looking at the artwork. Plo understood that Skywalker had been among the ones looking for what they could give to buy his mother, but he also knew that there was something to be said for appreciating art with a critical eye versus an appreciative one.

And then that brought him to the reason he had spent time wandering.

He walked over to join the two of them, Skywalker and Knight Kenobi both turning to regard him with a call of recognition and a bow, one that he returned politely. "It is good to see you both," he said with what he knew they would recognize as a smile, being sure to wrinkle the skin around his eyes just so.

"It's good to see you, Master Koon!" Skywalker called out with a wide smile.

"Young Skywalker," he said softly, "Teacher Koon is fine."

"Thank you, sir!" he chirped, smiling.

"Are you both enjoying the art here?"

"There's so much of it! I really like the statues! Obi-Wan took me to see the chimes, I really enjoyed those."

Plo thought of a young Zabrak branded and imprisoned, and quietly, "Young Skywalker…I do not… I am unsure how to ask."

"Just ask, sir," Skywalker said, looking up at him with a too-serious face for such a small boy. "I understand that we are both learning things."

Plo smiled at him, "Well said. I had been meaning…to ask you about art. About dreams. You talked about how you dreamed you freed all the slaves…"

"Yes, sir," Skywalker said with a nod, frowning heavily. "I often did. What about art, though?"

"I must assume you enjoy it, have you ever created any yourself?"

"Loads!" Skywalker cried out, laughing as he spread his arms wide, grinning up at him. Plo smiled in return, buoyed up by his enthusiasm and delight. "I loved to create art. I used to take the scrap from Watto…my…my owner…and I would use it to create pieces for my mom, or for…" he shrugged. "For a lot of people. Charms and protective runes and wind chimes…things like that."

Plo tilted his head, thinking of the culture that the boy had to have come from, but upon seeing the way Skywalker ducked his head and didn't extrapolate, he had to assume that those were more private things. Things that he was not ready to share, and so Plo did not ask, even as a part of him bristled at hearing the word 'owner' in reference to a living person. "I am pleased to hear that. I have often found that art frees the soul."

"I always thought so," Skywalker nodded, and then seemed to realize what he had agreed to, looking away. "I like expressing myself in that way."

Plo nodded thoughtfully, before sighing.

"Are you okay?" Skywalker asked, blinking up at him, and Plo smiled at him.

"I am, yes," he agreed softly. "I am merely…" Plo frowned, "trying to understand what was said to me earlier. I had a conversation with our prisoner."

"He's talking again?" Skywalker exclaimed. Knight Kenobi raised an eyebrow in obvious surprise as well, and Plo smiled at them.

"He is," Plo agreed with a nod and a smile. "We talked about art. He mentioned…a great many things. One of which was how he saw no point in dreaming. How painting both distracted from what was real and created a bitter and crushing disappointment once reality came. I have found myself…wondering."

Skywalker stared at him once again with eyes that were too serious and too old for his face.

"It's something I've heard used for the slave I think he is," Skywalker whispered, and there was such seriousness in his voice Plo found himself lowering down to be closer to his level, Knight Kenobi doing the same. "I think…I think that the Slave is a fighter, an…assassin, one that they train to fight to the point where they can go into any situation and handle anything that comes against them."

Skywalker licked his lips, leaning closer, "but because of how dangerous they make them, because of the fact that they work so hard at making them so deadly…they make sure they don't dream. They make sure that they know that if they fight back, if they think for even a second that they can be more than what they're allowed to be…" Skywalker shook his head. "I've talked to a few before. I always… Sometimes I feel lucky," Skywalker whispered. "Even though I was enslaved… Watto never took my dreams." Skywalker frowned. "Though he tried."

Plo said nothing, looking to Knight Kenobi, who stared at him with an expression that reflected his own horror back to him.

They needed to do something about this.

This was always something that the Jedi came back to. They were all aware of the horrors of slavery. It was not as though this was a particularly crushing revelation. But whenever he heard more about it, whenever something like this was spoken to the ones that they had managed to release from slavery…there was always that twist in his heart that said they needed to do something. They needed to… But it always ended in stalemate.

The fact remained that the Jedi had neither the manpower nor the political backing to end slavery, and in this manner, it was critical to have both. If you were to attack the Cartels it could very well incite a war, and the Jedi lived directly next to the Senate. They lived upon the Republic that they stood for, and as Plo had watched a little worm of corruption had taken root within the Senate and it had started to grow. The possibility that they would have enough backing to be a threat to the Jedi was undeniable. In the end, the Cartels had names and power. The ones that would oppress took a vote within the Senate, and they had many allies.

Enough allies that the Jedi needed to find another way to come against this issue, a way to fight that did not mean that they were swallowed up within the bureaucracy, and the fact that this was even an issue sometimes kept Plo up at night. He knew he was not the only one. He knew that the Council had twisted and hemmed and questioned what they would do, but there was always that hope that they could still promote change.

Ultimately, though, the Force had not guided them to leave, and so they had stayed.

Plo had to assume it was for some reason. Plo had to assume that they were going to do some good here.

And if they could not, then they would have to find a way to be an instrument of change themselves. If they could not fight a war, and Plo did not think that they could… Then they needed to do something else.

They had placed agents upon Tatooine and others, individuals that were meant to keep an eye on the Cartels and the Hutts and see what they could discover, but there was always a distance that was kept. They were not trusted because they would not reveal themselves, and because they were not trusted there was no way for them to influence, but there was no way for them to act as Jedi. Not without painting a target on their backs and the backs of the ones they attempted to help.

They needed a place to run, a place to take them, and while they could free the one woman…

Plo Koon paused, and really thought about that.

They were going to be freeing someone who was connected to all of this, not just connected but in the middle of it. They would have someone very much on the inside, someone who could show them where to turn and how to act in a way that would be most helpful. They would not have to fight a war. They would not have to become a target that the Senate would point to and say that they were overextending their reach, and they would deal with the fact that they needed to be so underhand later.

Plo shook his head, knowing in his heart of hearts that this was something they absolutely must begin working on. Plo was going to take this to the Council.

Plo would make them see his perspective…or he would leave.

Plo nodded slowly. "I am sorry," he said softly, "and I know that…it is hollow, but I am." Plo sighed, lowering his head, "We shall do something about this," he said softly. "And if we shall not, then I shall." Plo nodded and Skywalker's eyes widened as he caught the meaning to his words, shock and awe in his face. "I will be talking to the Council, but if you wish to speak to the prisoner, he is still awake, and he would probably appreciate the distraction."

Skywalker looked to Knight Kenobi, who looked to Plo with something that might have been amusement and might have been exasperation, before he breathed it out into the Force and stood, smiling. Skywalker looked to Knight Kenobi and practically skipped when he nodded his head in agreement.

"Young Skywalker," Plo called before they could leave. "We know his name." Plo watched Skywalker's eyes narrow in confusion, and then widen in anticipation. Plo smiled warmly, "his name is Darth Maul, or Lord Maul. Use his titles when you go to talk to him. He has won them in blood."

"We will, sir!" Skywalker called out, before looking to young Kenobi, practically dancing as he waited for him to lead the way.

Plo looked around one more time, and then headed to the Council Room, pressing the notification on his Comm to call an emergency meeting.

The Council would hear him, and they would like it.

Mace Windu was tired.

He had been enjoying a cup of tea in his quarters when he received the chime for an emergency meeting from Plo, and immediately went to deal with it, joining up with the others as they walked to the Council Room. The feelings of potential concern and quiet worry at the possibilities that could be brought before them were acknowledged and slowly breathed out.

Plo was waiting for them, standing in the middle of the room, his fingers laced together. They sat around him, all the members of the Council that were in the Temple taking their seats quickly and silently. They had been doing this for too long.

"Master Plo," Mace acknowledged, as soon as Yoda sat down, giving a soft hum, turning his attention to Plo, "you have the floor."

"I have been talking with young Skywalker, and young Darth Maul, and it has been…a series of illuminating conversations." Plo looked to each of them in turn. "I believe that Master Jinn's task should be more…extensive, and I also believe that we should bring other Jedi into it. We have turned a blind eye to slavery for too long."

"An attack, do you propose?" Master Yaddle asked softly, a warning in her tone.

This was something that they had discussed frequently, one that they had butted heads on and come to no agreement over. It festered like a bad tooth and there was a frustration that came with it that was breathed out. They couldn't attack, and they couldn't get close enough to be recognized for what they were. There were pitfalls after pitfalls. A minefield that had been planted before then that had never been there before, and they weren't sure how to disarm.

The corruption was new and deep and Windu wondered.

"No, Master Yaddle," Plo sighed. "I believe that we should serve the people we need to protect. That we should defend the ones who need it."

There was a pause as they looked at each other.

"We have known about this for so long, yet we have allowed it to fester instead of lancing it directly. We have trusted in the Republic, in the Senate when it has been shown of late that in this matter – they will do nothing."

Mace pressed his fingertips together before him as he thought. This was it then, the thing that they had discussed often, with different Jedi taking the very circle before them. But the Galaxy was big, and the Core Worlds were so often in trouble, disasters, and pirates and so much… There was enough manpower to give for all of these travesties, all of this hurt. Even so, it was never far from their minds. Qui-Gon Jinn had been the one before Plo Koon to take the floor.

Qui-Gon Jinn had also been the only one who refused to take a seat on the Council.

Mace Windu looked to Plo Koon, and finally, after the words had simmered in everyone's head enough for the truth to be felt within them – "What do you propose?"

"We have an opportunity before us that we have never had before," Plo said very softly. "We have a contact that…and I wish to emphasize this, may, may ask for our help directly. If they do this, we will be in the perfect position to take their lead, to follow where they would put us and act in the way they need. We would not be outsiders horning our way in where we are not needed or wanted, we would be outsiders that ask how can we help you? And if they say we cannot, then we will leave." Plo tilted his head, "we are meant to serve, are we not? We have so often discussed this as though we must remove the root entirely, as though we must remove the Cartels and the Hutts…in this way, it is not up to us. We are not waging a war we cannot win and are not sanctioned to."

They looked to each other.

"If they say that they just want resources, a ship, and a proper scanner…a place to go… Perhaps a healer that can remove the chips in a healthy manner, or at least teach them to do so and help prevent infection if they are having trouble with that," Plo stared at them. "I am not saying we start a war against the Cartels. As we all know we do not have the manpower or the backing to do that, but there is no reason we cannot arm the peoples that would otherwise suffer. There is no reason we should not help them take their own action."

"I think that this sounds like an excellent idea," Master Adi Gallia said, her voice firm. "Master Plo is right, this does not step outside of our jobs as peacekeepers, nor does it invite a war – provided of course that we can keep our actions covert, and I have no doubt that we can. We have had agents on Tatooine in the past. There is even one now, Quinlan Vos, who has been working for us for years, though he has been unable to make true headway due to the lack of trust. There may be a way for Jinn and Vos to work together in this matter. Should they ask for our help directly, we can reveal him as someone for them to trust, and similarly they can know that they are not alone."

Mace found himself nodding. It was a good plan, one that was not without its own risks, but at the same time… One that would be easier to explain. They could position themselves to be open without looking like that was what they were doing. A slave, after all, had been the one to help them on Tatooine, and so they would help the one that helped them.

If that meant that they could help others through her. Well…that was a different topic altogether, and certainly just a bonus. This was in all ways, after all, a different situation to the one on Pijal. This was different to the Czerka debacle where they had been able to act much more…aggressively, and this would allow them the freedom to work.

"I do think that this is something that would be doable," Master Tiin agreed, bowing his heavy head. "We have the ability to act with connections we otherwise would not have."

"Vos has often reported that the most difficult thing has always been making connections," Master Piell added, a frown curling his mouth. "If they deem us trustworthy…"

"I'm in favor," Mace said with little preamble, which started a brief round of votes.

Nearly unanimous with the naysays being worried about bringing war upon all of them. So, they would be careful.

And they would be smart.

They had some new orders for Master Jinn.

Qui-Gon Jinn got off the comm with a feeling of satisfaction rising in his chest. Perhaps mixed with a bit too much 'about time' and other not entirely polite feelings. Qui-Gon meditated upon them for a moment, and then let them go. Qui-Gon knew very well exactly why it had taken such a long time for them to be able to come to this decision. He remembered talking to the Council himself, to Obi-Wan. There was so much tangled within what should be simple, and that worried him.

But they were finally going to be in a position to do something, hopefully, right underneath notice. It was merely on Tatooine, but it was a start. Qui-Gon would see about coming up with ideas elsewhere. For now, however, Qui-Gon was waiting for landing clearance to be given. He had made it to Naboo what felt like hours ago and was still waiting for permission to land. On one hand, Qui-Gon felt he understood.

On the other… Qui-Gon had been invited by the Queen. Surely that would amount to something…

"Master Jedi," came a sudden voice, younger and distinctly more feminine than he would have expected. "You are cleared to land in docking bay two, we are sorry for your wait."

"Thank you," Qui-Gon said, and followed instructions, landing in the bay whose coordinates were sent to him. Upon landing, Qui-Gon got out of his Delta-7 and found his escort was not who he had at first expected, but the sight made a secretive smile curl his mouth.

There were two girls standing before him, each of them dressed in the traditional clothing of the Naboo Handmaidens, their flame-colored robes resplendent.

"Master Jedi," the one on the right said, and Qui-Gon recognized that he was looking at the Decoy. He recognized her signature, the burn of loyalty and compassion, the pride in what she was doing. "The Queen apologizes for your delay, but she is currently in…discussion with Captain Panaka. He did not wish to admit you."

"So, we did it for him," the other girl said, her mouth in a curled smile that was full of mischief. "Under the Queen's orders, of course."

"If you will follow us, we will take you to where the Queen will meet you."

Qui-Gon bowed his head regally and followed them. As they led him, they talked quietly to him, telling him where he was going, and Qui-Gon listened to them intently. Qui-Gon understood the trust that they were giving him, the fact that in doing this for the Queen she was allowing him to see into the inner workings of her defense. It was a gift that Qui-Gon would respect and a trust that he would honor.

They finally led him into a sitting room where he was soon joined by two other handmaids, and finally one more, the Queen and her Guard right behind them.

The Handmaids blended into the wall, and Qui-Gon made a note to get their names.

"Master Jedi," Queen Amidala intoned, Padmé's voice holding the regal empty tone that held no emotion as she greeted him, but her gaze held all of the strength and warmth that Qui-Gon had noticed in her. The same strength that had made him initially agree to let the young woman come with him into Mos Espa. The same strength that had rallied the people of Naboo, had brought the Gungans to peace.

"Your highness," Qui-Gon returned, bowing. "I was wondering if perhaps we could have this conversation in private?"

Qui-Gon did not particularly think that it needed to be done in private. But it was worth saying so in order to watch the Captain turn an alarming shade of puce.

"We may," Queen Amidala returned before her Captain could say otherwise, and the look she gave him was firm. Captain Panaka frowned, bowed, and then left with his guards. Qui-Gon could feel them setting up along the hall, that they had not left. But they were no longer in the room, and at their absence the Queen allowed herself to drop most of the trappings of Amidala, until Padmé sat before him.

"Hello, Master Jinn," she said, smiling at him. "It's good to see you."

"It is good to see you as well," Qui-Gon bowed, "before we continue, is it possible that I may get the names of the women that have led me here?"

"Yes," Padmé nodded to her handmaidens who stepped forward.

"My name is Sabé," the now-named Decoy said.

"Rabé," the one that had been with her nodded and there was that amused expression on her face, the one that spoke to hidden knowledge. Qui-Gon did not doubt it.

"Eirtaé," the one that spoke then had led Padmé, and her smile was warm. She was also the only handmaiden that had blue eyes.

"Yané," she bowed her head, and the look in her eyes was mischievous. Qui-Gon recognized that it was her voice that he had heard over the comm telling him which docking bay to use.

"Saché," and this one was the youngest, but she did not hold herself as such. Qui-Gon remembered her. The twelve-year-old girl who had withstood torture and interrogation to keep her people safe.

There was no doubt that Padmé and her entourage had been put under a trial by fire, and they had all come out on the other side. Qui-Gon bowed, "It is good to know you by name. I thank you for your service."

It was obvious that it startled them, but the smiles they gave him were warm.

"I have come because the Jedi need your help," Qui-Gon said finally, turning to Queen Amidala, who straightened, her expression falling into the mask. "You received my holotransmission, you know what I am after."

"I do," she agreed. "And I have prepared much to see that we can grant Shmi Skywalker's freedom. But I…" she took a breath. "I have a request of my own."

"Name it," Qui-Gon returned.

"Please see to it that you use my assets to free as many as possible."

Qui-Gon smiled at her warmly. "My Queen, we have had a few changes of plan. Do you have time for me to brief you?"

"Please, Master Jedi."

And so, Qui-Gon told her of the plan, and the Queen listened, and there was a light of something sharp and something cunning shining within her eyes. The Jedi had found themselves an ally, and Qui-Gon could not be happier.

Maul had finished eating breakfast and was idly thumbing through the flimsi, taking in the titles for the first time since they had been placed before him. It appeared as though there were several like the ones Plo had talked about and he frowned at them before setting them off to the side. He put them next to the plant, another strange symbol of the Jedi's odd method of imprisonment.

And then he heard another voice, and Maul closed his eyes, and desperately longed for a weapon. His legs, his legs for a fucking weapon and a way out…

Maul let his head bow for a moment and then finally walked over to the middle of the floor and sat down. He was not going to show weakness.

Maul watched as the smaller brat and the brat entered, and finally came before him. The smaller one was grinning from ear to ear and Maul had no idea how to feel about it. Had no idea how to deal with the smile that was fixed on him.

"Good morning, Darth Maul," the smaller brat chirped, his name given its proper title, and Maul narrowed his eyes at him. "It's good to see you!"

Maul…had no idea how to respond to that.

"I'm happy to have your name," he continued, and paused for a moment, before looking to Obi-Wan and finally, quietly, "your lightsaber is really cool."

Maul blinked. He didn't remember the smaller brat even seeing it fully. Maul had sensed him when he attacked Qui-Gon with the one side, and the smaller brat had been hiding within a cockpit, before he wound up going against the Destroyers the second time he had confronted them… Maul wondered idly what had happened with the rest of the battle. He had little doubt that the Naboo peoples had won, but the how escaped him.

It was not worth asking about.

"Well…" the smaller brat hedged, his voice quiet, uncertain, "I think it has to be cool. I haven't seen it, but…it's really double-sided? It has two blades?"

Maul tilted his head in an acknowledgement he couldn't help. He didn't understand this at all.

"How does it work? Why did you make it with two blades? Is that hard to use? How do you keep from cutting your own leg off?"

Maul said nothing, for a moment completely baffled how to even begin.

"Goodness, Anakin, one at a time, give him some time to breathe," the Brat said, laughing aloud.

"Sorry," Anakin grinned, "I've just been so curious! I've seen the crystals in Obi-Wan's and Qui-Gon's sabers, is there just the one crystal in yours?"

The Brat's expression fell, but he stared at Maul with eyes that dared him to speak, dared him to tell how many Jedi he had killed for his crystals. Maul sneered at him, and quietly, easily, "Six."

The Brat closed his eyes as though pained, even as the boy breathed out, "Wizard. How'd you get so many?"

Maul sneered at the Jedi, and as he looked at him, he realized that the braid that had marked him as Padawan had been cut away. The Brat was a Knight now, and Maul wondered if it had something to do with him. Either way he let his lips curl, let the Jedi imagine that he had killed six, or three, or four. However many lives he thought would take to get the crystals within his blade. How many he would have to bleed.

The smaller brat seemed to understand that there was something he was not getting, he looked between for a few moments, his enthusiasm fading. "How…did you get so many?"

Maul kept staring at the Brat, waiting for him to cave, waiting for him to…

"He…" the Brat started softly, "killed for them. The Sith…bleed their crystals."

Maul enjoyed the horror on the smaller brat's face for a moment, let himself bask in it before he finally laughed. The expression on the smaller brat's face was hilarious, and he only laughed harder, before finally he shook his head, smirking at the Brat.

"Foolish," he said easily, "to think that the Sith would be so dependent on you for the tools of your own destruction. I did not bleed them. They are mine. I made them." The Brat stared at him with wide eyes, and Maul leaned forward. "But that is not to say that I have not killed your ilk."

"But…" the Brat looked as though he was unsure whether or not to ask him about the ones that Maul had killed or asking how such a feat was done. Maul would not answer either question, but it was amusing to watch his worry, the concern on his face. "I don't understand," he finally said. "I did not know that you could create…they are synthetic?"

Maul said nothing else, he just smirked.

"I'm…glad they're synthetic," the smaller brat said, before looking to the Brat, "you could have told me that it wasn't wizard when I initially said that it was cool, if you thought that he'd killed for them."

"You are, of course, right," the Brat nodded, "but I suppose you are still allowed to think that it is wizard, and in the end, there was no harm done."

"Yeah!" the smaller brat seemed alright with ignoring the deaths that he had caused.

Maul did not understand.

"Why did you decide on a double-bladed one? Does it have a different name than a lightsaber?"

"Saberstaff," the Brat answered for him.

"Shh, Obi-Wan, I asked him," the smaller brat complained, putting his hands on the Brat's mouth. The Brat grinned at him.

"Apologies," he said, though he did not look sorry in the least.

Maul said nothing.

"How do you go about not cutting your own leg off?" the smaller brat repeated an earlier question, his nose wrinkling. "The blades aren't weighted, right? That's got to be so hard to keep track of…"

Maul said nothing.

"And you fought both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon…you have to be amazing!"

Maul fought very hard not to preen, he also wrinkled his nose. He did not know how to react to the way they talked to him. It felt like they were trying to get something from him, and Maul would not give it. It was suspicious and unnecessary and put him on edge. All of these empty words, these praises, these…

It was not just these two, but the old troll, Yoda, and then Koon? Plo gave Maul his name; Maul did not understand. Maul was a monster, Maul was a weapon, Maul was their death.

Maul had no idea what they wanted from him and that made him angry. It felt like a trap, a trick, and Maul was not foolish enough to talk about it.

He had done enough talking. He was done.

Maul turned around and walked to the refresher, not out of any need but simply to put distance between himself and these words.

Maul thought he heard the smaller brat's voice lower in something like disappointment, but whatever the Brat answered was lost in the sound of a comm chiming.

Maul heard the two of them leave to take the call, and slowly allowed himself to sink to the ground.

Maul did not understand.

He hated it.